


Simple Treasure

by rinskiroo



Series: A Good Space Boy From A Good Space Family [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars: Shattered Empire
Genre: BYO shipping goggles, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, generational storytelling via an inanimate object, mild TLJ spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinskiroo/pseuds/rinskiroo
Summary: It was just a metal band in a box with other similarly shaped, sized, and colored siblings.  A trinket carried around without purpose.  Now, it’s a symbol, a gift, a promise.Ending is open-ended for a choose your own Poe-ship.





	Simple Treasure

It sits in a box labeled “size 7” on a cart in a crowded space station.  Shiny silver, though not pure.  A compound mined from what was left of a random Outer Rim planet, melted with other metals, something added to give it shine, crafted into trinkets.  Many hands sift through the box, brushing against the metal bands.  Until one day, one of those thick, human fingers picks it up.

“How much?”  the man asks, and then haggles with the owner for a fairer price.  The man smiles at the silver band, laughs a little, then tucks it into his pocket.  Front pocket, zips it shut, smoothes his hand over it as if checking that it’s still there.

It rarely sees the outside of that pocket.  Usually, the man remembers to take it out before putting his vest through the wash.  Once, he forgets.  In a panic, he digs through the soapy, wet mess until he finds the ring, still zipped safely away.

“What’s got you all excited?”  a woman asks him.

“Nothing.”  The man shoves his hand with the ring into the pocket of his trousers.  “Thought I left a charge pack in my vest, but I didn’t.  All good.”

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.”  She laughs and the man’s fingers tighten around the thing in his pocket.

The next time it’s out in the open, the man is down on his knee.  Around them, people all rush to their very important jobs.  A voice on a loudspeaker announces how many minutes it would be until they exited hyperspace and commands pilots to the crafts.

“Shara,”  the man starts, somehow both nervous and full of conviction in the same moment.  “I don’t know what’s going to happen today, but I can’t watch you go out there without telling you how much you mean to me.”

“Kes—what—“  The woman, Shara, gasps, smiles, laughs, nearly cries.

It was just a metal band in a box with other similarly shaped, sized, and colored siblings.  A trinket carried around without purpose.  Now, it’s a symbol, a gift, a promise.

“Shara Bey, I want a life after this.  With you.”

It’s not so many words, but they’re heavy and purposeful.  Orange and blue uniforms rushing past have slowed to watch as the ring hangs between the pair of them.  She doesn’t take it, but grabs his shoulders and yanks him to his feet.  They’re both laughing and kissing and the ring nearly slips out of his hand, but he holds fast.

It’s about five minutes between the engagement and the wedding.  A sudden crowd of people and a woman in a white dress who happened to walk their way.

“I’m a Princess and a Senator,”  the woman says, all smiles.  “ _Anything_ I do is legally binding.”

Just like the engagement, the ceremony is over in a flash.  For half a second, the ring is on her finger and in his hair as she kisses her now-husband.  Then, it’s shoved into another pocket and zipped shut.  It’s dark in this pocket, too, and not as warm as being next to the breast of the man who carried it around before.  It jostles, flips upside down, takes sharp turns, speeds up and stops suddenly.

Shara screams—a joyous, triumphant yell.  She puts the ring back on and holds Kes’ hand as they stand with their friends.  They honor the fallen, and the heroes.

After that, it’s strung on a chain, hangs on a hook in a locker.  When the door opens, she pauses to run her finger around the loop and smiles, then closes the door again.  It stays there for a time—open, shut, open, shut.  The chain and ring settle in her hands.  She tries to push it on, but her fingers are a slightly different shape now and it doesn’t quite fit like it used to.

“We were so careful,”  she whispers.

“Until the one time we weren’t.”  He’s grinning.  He wraps his arms around her and pulls her in close.  His hands settle on hers over her stomach.  There’s a tiny flutter against her hand, cupped around the ring and chain.

“My squadron…”  She sounds worried, anxious.

“Understand, and are happy for you—for us.”  He turns her around and lifts her hand up to kiss it.  “The war won’t be won while we’re gone, but it won’t be lost either.”

Months are spent somewhere else, away from rushing uniforms, shaking pockets, and lockers.  The ring rests on the chain against her chest.  It sees the sun for the first time.  Feels rain.  It’s held often by clean fingers and she presses her lips to it and stares at the stars.

It’s around Kes’ neck when the babe takes his first breath.  It dangles in between the now three of them as Kes leans over and kisses his wife and child.  “Hello, Poe,”  Kes says quietly.  The babe cries.

Tiny fingers curl around the ring and chain; pull it in to gum at it.  Shara is crying, again.  The chain jerks against her skin as the small digits still have a hold on the drool-covered band.  An older man’s fingers reach up and gently uncurl Poe’s hand.

“I love you, Poe,”  she says through shaking breaths as he reaches for her necklace again.  “Thank you, Dad.”

The routine from before the planet with the sun and the rain returns.  There are moments when the ring leaves the locker and rolls around in her fingers.  She holds it for a few awhile, and then puts it back with a kiss.

The ring fits around Shara’s finger for the first time in years.  It shakes hands with person after person, each saying “Thank you” and “We’ll miss you.”  There are other words, wishing her well in her new life, but most are the same.  There are hugs, pats on the back, and then she tucks the ring into a zipped pocket that jostles and flips and turns and finally settles down on a place with a sun.

The baby, who had gummed at his mother’s necklace, is bigger now, though still tries to grab at the shiny silver.

The ring rests in an open box in the bedroom.  Not forgotten, never unwanted, but safely kept as it was in the locker.  Shara’s hands are in dirt, or machinery, or finger paints, or in gloves as she still flies.  She wears it into town to get the shopping done, but then takes it off when it’s time to do the washing.

The boy uses it for pirate treasure once.  A boat made of sticks floats down a small stream while plastic figurines chase it.  Shara panics; thinks she’s lost it.  Set it somewhere when she went to go out into the garden and now she’s forgotten.  She doesn’t yell when Poe sheepishly holds up his hand and gives her the silver ring with spots of mud on it.  She kneels down to him and hugs him close, thanks him for keeping it safe, but reminds him the safest place is in its box in her room.

Shara holds it in her hand as she sits out in the sun.  She won’t wear it anymore—it no longer fits, again.  This time it slips off her thin fingers.  She’s withering away.  Her son sits curled in her lap, his fingers playing with the ring and chain in his mother’s hand.  They nuzzle in close and it’s warm with the two of them and the sun.

It’s cold in the box.  Covered up, not open like before.  Put inside another box.  Jostled up and pushed into a space where there are no more voices.  For a long time, it’s very quiet.  The ring is not forgotten, not lost, just put away.  Kept safe, or just kept away.

“I gotta go back!”  a man shouts over the objections of his father.  “Beebee-ate is still out there!  He’s counting on me—the whole Resistance is counting on me!”

The box shifts, is jerked and shuffled out of its hiding place.  Kes coughs at the dust and it stings his already teary eyes.  He digs through the contents of the larger box, shifts through the jumble of objects until he finds the smaller case.  The ring sees light for the first time in years.  It’s lost its shine, but not its value.  The band of melted metals and compounds, like millions of others out there in the galaxy, purchased for a pittance, its worth only growing with each passing moment.

Kes clenches it in his hand like he did in the beginning.  He’s nervous and anxious again, but in a different way, for different reasons.  He fastens the chain around his son’s neck, presses the metal band against his skin.

“When I gave this to her, I told her it was for what comes next.  I need you to remember that, son.”

Poe clasps his hand over his father’s and embraces him tightly.  “I promise.  I’ll do you both proud.”

“You have, Poe,”  Kes whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion.  “Just come home in one piece.”

The ring settles against warm skin again.  It slips back and forth on the chain as the craft hurtles through space.  It doesn’t get zipped into a pocket, left in the dark.  Poe keeps it close to him.  He polishes the tarnish away, rolls it in his fingers, presses his lips against it, and whispers,  “I wish you were here.”

It flings around his neck as he throws the chair.  Spit and anger and the sudden hopelessness.  He nearly rips the chain off, has his fingers curled into the links ready to tear it from his neck.  He almost gives up, forgets his promise.  But then, there’s the sun.  It shines through the rocks and illuminates a path and the hope that lies beyond.

“What’s that?”  a woman asks him as he sits in the pilot’s seat and toys with the ring on its chain in his hands.

“It was my mother’s,”  he says, fingers gently tracing the circle.

The woman, older now, but the same woman in the white dress who had made a simple metal band into a symbol of enduring love.  She settles into the other seat and places her hand on his, calming restless fingers.  “I hope you find that, Poe.”

“Find what, General?”

“A promise of a life after this.  Of love, and peace.”

He glances back at the bustle of what’s left of their Resistance.  Small, determined, proud.  He spots the face of one of them and his fingers clench around the ring.  “I think, for the first time, I can almost see it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Deejaymil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil) for the quick beta.
> 
> I don't really know if this worked, but there it is.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://rinskiroo.tumblr.com/).


End file.
